Snowman
by DarkHarlequin
Summary: She sits there for a long time and doesn't leave, because she needs someone to be there, even if that person is behind a door which will never open.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen.**

**Please review! :)**

* * *

"_Do you wanna build a snowman?_

_Come on let's go and play._

_I never see you anymore._

_Come out the door,_

_It's like you've gone away."_

_-:-_

She remembers a garden blanketed in thick, powdery snow as she asks the question with all the optimism of a child. Weak rays of sunlight had filtered through the clouds, and the chill from the snow she carried in her hands had leaked through her gloves. But she'd barely taken notice. The snowman they had been building together was slowly beginning to take shape. Her sister has always been good at making snow figures, much better than her. And she can't build a snowman by herself, not just because it's a lot more difficult, but because there's no point in doing it _alone_.

But the door remains shut, as it has been for weeks.

She doesn't give up though. Her sister's behaviour puzzles her, but it wasn't such a long time ago when Elsa was her very best friend. Maybe she's sleeping. Maybe she didn't hear the sound of the door. Maybe she doesn't want to be best friends anymore…?

Or maybe… What Elsa wants to build _isn't_ a snowman.

"It doesn't have to be a snowman," she says hopefully, trying to peer through the keyhole best as she can.

"Go away, Anna."

Anna's face falls and disappointment wells up in her chest at the rejection. "Okay bye," she says sadly, and trudges away, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpeted floor.

She doesn't try again for a few days.

* * *

"_Do you wanna build a snowman?_

_Or ride a bike around the halls?_

_I think some company is overdue,_

_I've started talking to the pictures on the walls._

_It gets a little lonely,_

_All these empty rooms,_

_Just watching the hours tick by…"_

_-:-_

It's been _ages_ since she last spoke to her sister, and even longer since she held a proper conversation with her, let alone done anything fun. The castle is deserted; there is only the occasional servant going about on his or her duty, and they don't seem to want to stay in her company for long.

Anna spends her days being bored out of her mind, wandering around rooms which don't feel lived in. Her parents are busy, she has no close friends, and she hardly sees or speaks to her own sister. It's boring. She misses the days when they would do everything together, and wonders at the reason for this sudden change. Was it something she did? But as much as she racks her brains, she can't figure out what she could have possibly done to cause this. This question puzzles her to no end and refuses to leave her alone; she _burns_ to know.

So she asks, but gets no answer. As she walks away, slightly dejected, she doesn't notice the chill breeze which blows out gently from the gap beneath the door.

* * *

_Years later…_

She doesn't bother to ask anymore. The response is always either silence or a plea to leave. It wasn't always like this. But it is now, and she has come to terms with it.

Her parents are leaving on a short trip to another country for business. They are leaving that very day, and she goes to say goodbye. "See you in two weeks," she tells them cheerfully, embracing them and not expecting anything out of the usual to happen, because it is another normal journey for them. Of course, she hopes that they'll have a safe trip, but bad occurrences are things which one reads about and does not expect to happen that close to home.

After all, they would always come back safe, and there is no reason to think that this time will be any different.

* * *

"_Elsa?_

_Please, I know you're in there._

_People are asking where you've been._

_They say have courage, and I'm trying to._

_I'm right out here for you, just let me in._

_We only have each other,_

_It's just you and me._

_What are we gonna do?"_

_-:-_

Their parents are gone.

Why would that happen to them, of all people? Why did a storm have to occur during their voyage? It is difficult to accept, and as she watches the gravestones, hot tears spill out and trickle down her cheek. She just lets them flow, not caring about what the other people might think. The tightened knot in her chest could be her heart, but she doesn't know and doesn't want to know because from it comes all her pain and grief. Her lip trembles and her vision blurs until she can barely make out the shape of the gravestones.

Just a few feet away, Elsa is standing and looking at their parents' empty graves. Her face is very pale and her cheeks glisten with tears as well, but she looks slightly more composed than Anna feels. She raises her eyes to meet Anna's for a moment, for just a split second in which an understanding forged by grief is silently exchanged in a single glance. Anna has not seen her so unguarded in a long time.

The moment is broken. Elsa turns away and walks slowly back to the castle, and Anna has never felt so alone.

-:-

Later that day, she tries one more time, not hoping, not expecting, because expecting something will inevitably lead to disappointment and she's tired of disappointment. This is just to talk. Just to tell Elsa something, anything, because they are sisters and have both been recently bereaved. And she worries about how Elsa is taking this. She knows that her older sister had cared very much for their parents.

So she talks. Softly. Knowing that Elsa is on the other side of the door and can hear her. And she makes one last plea for her to open both doors, the literal and figurative. She's here for her sister, and she wants Elsa to know that. It doesn't actually matter if Elsa decides to let her in, but she wants her to understand that she is not alone. They have each other.

A feeling of hopelessness engulfs her as she sits leaning against the door. The sun has set, and taken with it every last bit of optimism she has. She knows that if she goes to look down from the window, she can see the garden where she used to play with her sister. And a thought crosses her mind, an old, once oft-asked question. It has not crossed her lips in years.

"Do you want to build a snowman?"

Her voice cracks as she bites back a sob. She sits there for a long time and doesn't leave, because she needs someone to be there, even if that person is behind a door which will never open. Silence is her only answer. But that's all right, because it's been the answer for many years and is almost comforting in its familiarity.

So she stays there for the whole night, blanketed in a silence which is not broken by either of them, and stares out of the window, wondering how everything went so terribly, terribly wrong.


End file.
